Endless Dreams
by Tweetie Pie
Summary: A murder that strikes close to home is too much for Lucifer to handle. Who can he call on for help? (UNFINISHED)
1. Prologue - Infinte Dreams

**Prologue**

"Hello, Brother" the young goth girl was nearly bouncing with joy as the tall, gaunt figure sat beside her.

" _ **Sister**_ " he intoned, as he settled robes around him, before folding his hands into his lap. Children screamed, laughed and cried as they played with the swings and slides, the pleasant afternoon's sun encouraging their games. Death watched silently, the company of her brother more than enough right now.

" _ **Are you here for business, or pleasure**_?" he finally asked, turning to watch her pale profile. The Ankh tattoo on her cheek almost glowed with power and he had his answer before she could voice it.

"Business, I'm afraid. But not the normal kind" she sighed softly, before tilting her head to look at him. "Can you feel the universe holding her breath?"

Closing his eyes, Morpheus reached out with his otherworldly senses, feeling a thrill of electricity flicker along his arms. He could feel the small rent in reality that she was hinting at, but as he listened the sounds of the world ceased.

Opening his eyes, the children had paused mid-play, balls mysteriously stopped.

"It's a auspicious day when two of the Endless gather on the planes of the Earth" drifted the deep voice of a dark skinned man who stepped into view.

" _ **Amenadiel**_." Morpheus stood, to show respect to the Angel, his own robes fluttering almost as black as the wings on their new companion. " ** _What brings you to this moment, Angel_**?"

"I received a message." Death arose, moving to the other side of the large man, watching his face.

As they stood in the silence of the arrested world, she reached out to touch his arm very lightly "I'm so very sorry, Amenadiel."

As her fingers brushed his arm, the world seemed to return to life, punctuated by a particularly shrill scream from a child that fell off the swing.

Amenadiel looked down at the slim fingers on his arm, a puzzled frown darkening his face, then his gaze was drawn to the slumped form of his own body on the floor. "Come on, Amenadiel. I will keep you safe." Death started to draw the spirit of the Angel away, but Morpheus held out his hand.

" ** _Wait, sister_**."

She paused, turning to look back at him "I cannot hold him long, as you well know."

" ** _Actually, you can. Our brother said that there is a moment today, where the world hangs on a thread. He could not see the outcome_**." He paused, eyes flickering between the body and the spirit of the Angel once known as Amenadiel. " _ **I believe that in this instance, it is more suitable for him to abide in my domain, until the situation makes sense**_."

Death paused, a faint glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "You know that an Angel is a strange soul?"

" _ **Even Angels dream, sister. Even you dream**_." he smiled softly, for once breaking his aloof mask.

"Touché, brother..." She smiled at him, just as Amenadiel started to realise what was happening.

"Lucy will want to find out who did this. He'll come!" The Angel started to pull away.

"He will die, if he does." Death's voice was soft, final and chilling all at once.

She turned to her brother. "Angel and Human together may get to the bottom of this. If He'll come."

" _ **I'll make him come**_ " said Morpheus, " _ **dreams are powerful portents to his kind**_."


	2. Chop Suey

Chapter 1

"Wha's a fella gotta do t'get a drink 'round 'ere?" the glass hit the bar with a loud 'thunk' as the distinctly non-American voice filled the silence of the bar on this warm afternoon.

Mazikeen looked up from where she was cleaning glasses at the other end of the bar. The scruffy Englishman was getting on her nerves, but at least he could drink passably well. She paused, really looking at him. The damnation that surrounded this man curled around him, like the smoke that curled along the edges of his mouth and nose.

She pointed lazily to the sign that hung above the shelf of bourbon "No smoking."

"Listen, luv. I've been on a flight fer the last 12 hours, ain't had a fag since Brum, an' I know fer sure someone else here smokes!" he gestured to the grand piano, with the ashtray that was prominently positioned for the pianist to use.

"Love...?" Maze pushed herself to her feet, the word hanging dangerously on the air, as she reached for the knife she had sheathed in the small of her back.

"Let it slide, Maze" came Lucifer's voice from the VIP section at the top of the stairs.

Both pairs of eyes flickered to the silhouette above them, and Maze relaxed a little.

"Thought you weren't 'ere, mate" drawled the scruffy drinker.

"I thought it was you." the Devil paused, then shrugged "I suppose you should come up then." He turned, heading toward the lifts to the private penthouse.

Taking a drag on his cigarette, John Constantine bent down to collect his leather satchel, then he paused to knock the ash of his cancer stick into the ashtray. He cast a last look back at Mazikeen, then jogged up the stairs.

The VIP area was empty, apart from the open lift entrance, with the dark figure lurking in the back.

They ascended in silence, Human and Angel beside each other, neither willing to break the hum of the lift.

A soft ding filled the air, and the doors slid open. Emerging first, the Angel shrugged off the baggy shirt he wore, revealing drooping wings that now dragged along the floor. The slacks he wore were as crumpled as John's trenchcoat, with bare feet poking out from under the hems. As he walked, Lucifer grabbed one of the bottles of whiskey on the counter top, then staggered to the sofa.

It was all true, the Morningstar was in mourning.

"I 'ad a dream" ventured Constantine, as he moved around the bar and helped himself to a bottle of good Scotch. The sound of ice chinked in the glass, then he poured himself a generous serving. He shrugged off his coat and took a deep drag of the cigarette that still hung from his lips.

The Devil looked up, shook his head, then turned back to look through the picture window at the city below.

"He ain't dead yet."

Lucifer just took a long pull of the amber liquid in his bottle, hardly even feeling the burn of the alcohol as it struggled for dominance with the tears in his throat.

Constantine rolled up his sleeves, took his glass and moved around the apartment to a small chair near the fallen Angel. He fell silent, contemplating the large wings that Lucifer had pulled around himself like a shield, grey and matted from neglect. John's eyes traveled to the face of the Devil, a three day beard adorning the usually well groomed face, hair mussed and unkempt.

"I got dreams, and you know who sends 'em when they're that vivid."

A soft grunt of acknowledgement escaped the Morningstar's lips.

"Oi, Mate!" Constantine slammed the glass down on the table. "I'm talkin' to you! Wake up, and DO something."

Lucifer paused, bottle half raised to his lips.

"You're just as weak as the fallen Humans 'round 'ere! Don't know why I bothered coming all the way from England for your sorry arse!" Constantine took another drag, then a sip of Scotch.

As the fire of the Human's words finally seemed to reach him, Lucifer lowered the bottle. Setting it down, he stood, wings raised a little more and eyes blazing. As anger settled around him, the morose air seemed to dissipate. Flames flickered slightly, warming the air as Lucifer turned the full force of his devil's face on John Constantine.

Who just shook his head and sipped his Scotch. "Didn't take much, did it?" 


	3. Sympathy for the Devil

"Ahhh... Detective!" Lucifer's smile was positively beaming as he and Constantine emerged into the main squad room of the LAPD offices.

With a flick of blonde hair, Chloe Decker looked over her shoulder at the source of worry and irritation. "What are you DOING here, Lucifer? I thought you were out of town, or something?"

Folding his overcoat across his arm, Lucifer led Constantine down into the den of the Detectives and toward the small blonde that he'd addressed as Detective. Constantine only knew that the whole cheery persona was a mask, because he had seen the state of the devil less than 2 hours previous. An unlit cigarette danced between John's nervous fingers, as he tried desperately to not care that he couldn't smoke.

"Detective, I wanted to speak to you about..." he faltered, coughed slightly, then continued "about Amenadiel. Has your autopsy come back yet?"

"You're family, Lucifer, I can't talk to you about that and you know it."

"Humour me, Detective." The full force of his charming smile was turned on Decker, who paused speechlessly for a long moment.

Then the spell broke, she shook her head, and pushed past him. "Fine. Just... don't get in the way."

"Lucifer!" a small brunette ran from the laboratory to hug Lucifer, a sad look in her dark eyes. "Are you OK?" she pushed herself away from the taller man, to look into his face. "I mean, of course you're not OK, but are you dealing with this?"

Lucifer looked down, and if Constantine didn't know that he was looking at the devil, he would have sworn a tender look came across the elder being's face before he awkwardly tapped the smaller woman's shoulder. The movement elicited a further hug from her. "Of course, you're not dealing with it. I wouldn't expect you to!"

"Ummm... Miss Lopez? I... can we go into your lab?" He gently extricated himself, and moved to join the blonde detective who was waiting with crossed arms.

"You'd better tell him what you found, Ella."

"So..."

"Hang on, where are YOU going?" the strident voice of Dan Espinosa carried across the office. Constantine turned as a young Hispanic man grabbed his sleeve to stop him following Lucifer.

"Get yer 'ands off me, Mate!" The crispness of the T in mate seemed to serve a chill on the air, causing the seasoned detective to let go of the Englishman's sleeve.

"You don't have authorization to be here." Espinosa and Constantine locked eyes, and the Englishman opened his mouth to retort that he was with Lucifer, but the Devil interrupted their interlude.

"Daniel, he is with me." The tone of his voice was enough, that Constantine simply shrugged, tilted a thumb towards Lucifer, then shrugged again "That."

Lucifer watched as the scruffy man approached, then shrugged himself, before turning back to Lopez.

She nudged Chloe, both apparently arguing that they didn't know who this man was. Chloe cleared her throat and stepped forward "Who are you?"

Constantine blinked, a little affronted, then took a deep breath and esxtended his hand. "Please... Allow me to introduce myself. John Constantine." As his hand extended, the cigarette in his fingers vanished, to be replaced by a white business card which he handed to Chloe.

Lucifer's look could have burned, had he been trying. He met Constantine's eyes "Tacky, John. Tacky."

"Exorcist, Demonologist and... master of the dark arts?" Chloe raised puzzled eyes to Constantine, who rubbed at his neck.

"Yeah, new cards are being printed. It's supposed to say 'Petty Dabbler'."

"Oh, you're a master, alright, Constantine. A Master Pain in my A...!"

"Enough!" Chloe sighed, the two men glaring at each other. It was obvious they weren't friends.

Ella wet her lips, then lifted the clipboard to read the details. "It's alright, there wasn't a crime."

That got everyone's attention, and six eyes moved to the small Latina's face. "The place was pristine, there was no sign of struggle and the autopsy came back clean." She shrugged, an apologetic smile on her face.

"That's... not possible!" said Lucifer, stepping closer. "I... he... Nothing could kill him..."

Ella read the confusion in Lucifer's eyes as sadness, and reached out to touch his arm. Lucifer pulled away, not really wanting to be touched right now.

"Bloody 'ell." Constantine put a cigarette in his mouth, and flicked open the zippo he carried. 


End file.
